Green Eyed Monster
by kittykattle90
Summary: Brynjolf/F!DB - a very lemony far-too-long-to-be-a-oneshot! Set after the mission to take down Mercer, the Dragonborn becomes jealous of the special bond developing between Karliah and Brynjolf.


Disclaimer: I do not own any part of The Elder Scrolls: Skyrim series - not one little bit. This is written purely for entertainment value and I hereby state I make no profit whatsoever!

It had been weeks. Weeks since the felling of that snide, underhanded dog; Mercer Frey. Weeks since their enrolment into the Nightingales. Weeks since a fateful conversation, during which a certain gentleman thief (if there even was such a thing!) expressed romantic interest in a certain Dragonborn maiden.

It had been _weeks _and still nothing.

She'd given Brynjolf time; he had a lot on his plate dealing with the discovery of Mercer's betrayal, Karliah's return to the Guild, joining the Nightingale's, finding a new leader for the Guild whilst simultaneously keeping everything operating smoothly... Being busy was something Fiola Berregaard; Dragonborn and Thane of Whiterun, Solitude and Riften, understood better than most. But this... This was ridiculous.

Another murmur followed by laughter echoed around the cistern tauntingly. Fiola bit her tongue hard, fearing a cry would burst forth from her lungs in frustration. Expressing emotions out-loud was something she tended to avoid these days, unless faced by a dragon or some other enemy - and great Talos she had a lot of them these days! The results were usually unpleasant when she 'expressed herself' whilst facing the wrong person.

Since Karliah had been welcomed back to the guild, things had changed – and not for the better. Fiola felt like she'd been chasing Brynjolf's heels ever since. She felt needy and desperate – two things she vowed never to be over a man. Ever. Before Karliah, he had always made time to speak with her. She was his protégée, his friend - his 'lass'; a pet name she'd taken for granted and stupidly thought to be exclusive to her – apparently not!

Hell, there had even been that one night - the night before the trio set off in search of Mercer – where she had been all the man could think about! Brynjolf had been _so_ charming. His plan - to get her between the sheets – had been obvious, but somehow endearing... And oh, how close she had been to giving in to him. Fiola felt bitterness and regret rise in her throat.

Now Mercer was dealt with and the Guild was back on its feet, it seemed he didn't need her any more. In fact, whenever the Dragonborn crossed paths with Brynjolf these days, he had 'important things to do' and quickly evaded her. Funny how he was never too swamped to spend time with _Karliah_...

Jealousy wasn't an emotion Fiola experienced often. Her life hadn't been particularly hard-going or traumatic (to begin with at least). In fact she was grateful, though hardly raised in luxury, for the simple life she'd had growing up.

Then she'd made the idiotic decision to go travelling; ending up nearly executed, discovering she was an ancient Nord legend complete with important destiny, being thrown into the middle of a civil war and, to top it off, she had begun to fall for a man who was seemingly just toying with her emotions.

It was all Karliah's fault. If that woman hadn't come swanning back, things would have been just fine... True, she _had_ unearthed all of Mercer's secret betrayals against the Guild _and_ had helped them kill him... And she _had_ introduced Fiola to Nocturnal and the way of the Nightingales... But as far as 'matters of the heart' went – they were sworn enemies in Fiola's books!

The Dragonborn glared menacingly at the ornate screen that shielded Karliah's bed, hoping she could melt it down with her fury. Both she and Brynjolf were currently behind it, their actions hidden from view. They could be doing anything back there... together... on Karliah's bed...

Fiola gnashed her teeth together and could practically feel the venom behind her expression as she tried to pretend she didn't care that she couldn't see what they were up to. She didn't care that she could hear them talking and laughing quietly. She _didn't_ care.

"Well aren't you a sight for sore eyes."

Fiola glanced up to see Sapphire stood at the foot of her bunk, arms crossed with a steely expression as always. The Dragonborn shrugged and turned her head.

"I'm not one for deep, meaningful conversations..." The woman continued, sitting heavily on Fiola's bed, "But you look like you need one. I figured I owed you for what you've done for the Guild... After this, we're even okay?"

Fiola almost smiled. It was just like Sapphire to make everything all about business. Not that she blamed her... Maybe if she'd been a bit more level-headed she wouldn't have gotten into this mess to begin with.

"It's nothing really..." Fiola sighed, fiddling with the leather loops on her thief's 'utility belt'. Sapphire snorted and stared at her, clearly unimpressed.

"Well, that bitch has just wandered back in here and is sat, drinking, laughing and _flirting_ with your man. I'd hardly call that 'nothing'."

The Dragonborn stilled for a moment, unsure what to make of that blasé comment. She ground her teeth together loudly.

"Yeah, yeah – boo-hoo, _big_ surprise that I knew you and Brynjolf had a 'thing'." Sapphire shrugged, "I'm not an idiot. You've been making slushy, lovey-dovey eyes at him for months..."

Before Fiola could even open her mouth to argue, the thief raised a gloved palm for silence.

"And he's no better! He's been following you around like a slobbering hound, eyeing you like you're some sweet treat for him to devour." Sapphire scoffed haughtily. "So now bitch-queen shows up and he's over there, practically rubbing her feet! So yeah, I get why you're pissed – what I don't get is why you're sat over here sulking about it."

"W-what else should I do then!" Fiola snapped back, her cheeks growing hot. The mighty Dragonborn, accused of making slushy, lovey-dovey expressions! The shame of it!

"You go over there and you beat her into Oblivion." Sapphire stated calmly. "Or him, but honestly I don't think you'll achieve much that way."

"I should get them both." Fiola spat.

"No doubt here, but Brynjolf might not be overly pleased with you for beating the shit out of him – and I assume what he thinks of you is of great importance?" The Dragonborn looked at her feet in embarrassment. She was ashamed to admit she'd become one of '_those'_ women...

"Karliah is the one that deserves a real beating." The thief narrowed her eyes and got to her feet, "Show her what happens when you mess with us... Or you could just sit over here and watch as Karliah moves in on your man." Sapphire shrugged, "I don't know about you, but as a member of the Thieves' Guild, I wouldn't let anyone steal _my_ property, _especially_ not right out from under my nose." Without another word, she turned and stalked away.

Fiola sat in stunned silence, letting her thoughts fall into place. It seemed so simple now. In any other situation, that was exactly what she would have done. If a rival guild moved in on your patch; you'd show them you mean business and make them pay for their crime - one way or another!

Fiola toyed with the sneak-thief approach. She had wanted to wait it out in the shadows, biding her time until Karliah was alone, but her blood boiled with urgency. Urgency to get some payback.

The Dragonborn paced back and forth like a caged tiger – the other members of the Guild avoided her, all choosing to busy themselves on the opposite side of the cistern. Probably a smart move on their parts – Fiola felt ready to blow.

Eventually, Brynjolf made his excuses and left Karliah's bunk. He'd barely made it half-way across the central walkway when Fiola accosted him.

"Hey Lass, I've been mean-" Brynjolf's sentence was cut short as Fiola stormed past him, blinded by jealous rage. Karliah was leaning seductively against her screen, gazing after Brynjolf hungrily.

That was until she spotted the Dragonborn making a bee-line for her.

"Fiola? Did you need somet-" Karliah's sentence was cut off by a swift, powerful punch to the jaw. Hand-to-hand combat wasn't her strongest method of attack, but Fiola's strike had been enough to knock the woman off-balance.

"What the..." Karliah dabbed the sleeve of her uniform to her lip, "I don't know what you're playing at, but y-" Fiola landed another punch. That one was harder.

"You know, I was just about to ask _you_ what _you're_ playing at." Fiola hissed, narrowing her eyes. "Brynjolf is _my_ property and I view your behaviour as an attempt to _steal_ my property..." Fiola darted forward and shoved Karliah to her ass, "_No one steals from me and gets away with it._"

Without another word, Fiola found herself in the midst of a cat-fight. Karliah leapt forwards from the ground with a startling speed, smashing her elbow swiftly upwards against the Dragonborn's jaw.

"Whoa now!" Brynjolf yelled, clearly having caught up on the situation. Fiola felt a pair of strong hands grasp her, but she shook them off and jumped forward to attack – dodging a misguided kick from the other woman.

"Girls, girls! Steady now! Both of you!" Brynjolf shouted, still attempting to pry to women apart. Fiola managed to grasp a fistful of Karliah's hair and viciously yanked it free from her scalp without a second thought. The woman howled and slashed out, hitting the Dragonborn square across the face.

"Fiola! Calm down!" Through total fluke, Brynjolf managed to wrap his arms around the Dragonborn, twisting her arms and locking them tightly behind her back.

Karliah's expression quickly turned wicked, and in a flash she disappeared into thin air... Or so it seemed until Fiola felt a swift knee collide with her stomach, knocking the breath out of her lungs. She doubled over, still attempting to fight free of Brynjolf.

"Karliah! Lass, that's _not_ how we do things in this Guild! Not against each other! We're a family damn it!" The man yelled, his tone clearly shocked and even slightly betrayed. Fiola felt immense satisfaction and rage wash through her simultaneously.

That was _HER_ pet name, damn it!

"Coward." She hissed, knowing Karliah was somewhere near by, "Two can play at that game..." She just had to wait for the strike...

When Fiola felt a hard fist collide with her skull, a red mist descended on her vision and she sucked in a deep breath. Bitch wanted to play dirty? She'd bitten off more than she could chew.

"IISS LEN NUS!" The words exploded from her chest with a loud, thunderous boom and both Brynjolf and the Dragonborn stumbled backwards with the force of the shout. There was a moment of torturous silence as block of solid ice formed before her eyes; it was empty, but suspiciously woman-shaped - Karliah's body was clearly still under the effects of her invisibility potion. The block fell to the floor with a solid thunk and the room fell silent.

As she caught her breath, Fiola suddenly became aware that Brynjolf still had a firm hold on her arms and struggled to get free.

"I... I don't think that was really necessary Lass..." Brynjolf muttered, clearly still a bit shell-shocked but still retained his grip on her.

"She started it by using her invisibility potions..." Fiola justified, shrugging as she spat blood out onto the stone pathway in front of her.

A small crowd had gathered to watch their dispute. Rune was clearly collecting bets as several members begrudgingly handed him coin. Nice to know her Guild had confidence in her fighting prowess – _not!_

"Alright, all of you – get out of here. Shows over." Brynjolf called out to the others and the crowd began to disperse, "Vipir... Can you, uh, pick Karliah up off the floor and take her somewhere to cool off?"

"I think she's pretty damn cool already!" Fiola sniggered. Brynjolf, still holding her in an arm-lock, gave her a less than friendly warning-tug.

Glancing around, she caught Sapphire's eye; the woman didn't move a muscle, but Fiola could tell she was pleased. The Dragonborn shot her a victorious, blood-filled grin.

"Outside. Now." Brynjolf hissed, releasing Fiola from his vice-like grip and pushing her towards the secret exit that lead up into Riften's graveyard. Fiola shook herself, straightening her tunic and stormed a few paces ahead – her mood blackening steadily.

Brynjolf was angry with her. _He_ was angry with _her_! Fiola fumed silently, the brief high from her victory disappearing altogether.

Neither said anything to one another, not even when stood in the cool silence of nightfall. Fiola fought for something to say, something to throw at him; but came up blank. Instead, she paced, crossing and uncrossing her arms.

"So." Brynjolf said, his voice cutting through the stillness around them, "Care you explain yourself, Lass?"

"I don't like her! She's trouble – you saw how quickly she used her invisibility against me!" Fiola cried, alarming even herself with how whiny she sounded.

"T'be fair Lass, you did sock her one! Right in the mouth!" He replied and the Dragonborn felt hot, humiliating tears spring to her eyes.

"Of _course_ you're siding with her! Why am I _not _surprised!" Fiola snapped, desperately fighting to hide the wavering in her voice, "I guess you don't need me now, you sleazy, good-for-nothing! You've got your Guild back in working order, and _Karliah's_ returned. You're clearly very happy about that!"

"Now, now..." Brynjolf replied, his tone lower and rougher... Dare she say - gentler,"I don't know where you'd get that impression Lass." Though he had sounded serious, Brynjolf's lips twitched into a small, self-satisfied smile that made the Dragonborn seethe with rage.

"I'm glad you find this so funny. I won't feel too guilty for beating the life out of you... and her! _Again!_" Fiola hissed.

"Calm down Lass..." Brynjolf paused, "Y'know, if you were _jealous_ you could have just told me." Her rage dissipated instantly, her muscles grew slack.

"_Jealous_? I wasn't jeal-" She began, but was cut off as Brynjolf reached for her. Fiola tensed, but allowed him to pet a rough hand through her hair; tied back in a loose, messy knot.

"And here I was worried you weren't really that interested in me..." Brynjolf chuckled, "I'm sorry Lass, it was cruel of me to goad you like that... Though really, you should have known better - I'm a shady character."

Fiola stared blankly, lost for words.

"I didn't think you'd get so upset, honestly! I know Karliah was laying it on a bit thick but..." He laughed, "I owe that girl a drink – or two!"

"A-are you telling me you set this up? Great Talos I hope that's not what you're saying, because I really will have to hurt you otherwise..."

"After that display, I really don't doubt your ability! You're quite terrifying for such a teeny lass!" Brynjolf replied.

"W-well... I do have dragon's blood in me, remember?" Fiola huffed, feeling her cheeks growing hot. She avoided his gaze and crossed her arms tight under her bust, shoeing a dirt patch in front of her.

"Mm, you're a fire-cracker alright..." Brynjolf sighed, trailing his thumb across her cheek and dipping it under her jaw to tilt her face to meet his. Fiola jerked away.

"If this was a set-up – why did Karliah fight so hard?" She demanded.

"Because the lass never could throw a fight. It's one thing the two of you definitely have in common!" Brynjolf chuckled, "I warned her you were a force to be reckoned with, but..." He trailed off.

A strange sense of smug satisfaction crept across Fiola's skin.

"I'm still furious." She stated, crossing her arms ever tighter across her chest.

"I imagined you would be." Brynjolf reached for her again, but this time Fiola let him gently tug her closer, "I'm sorry lass."

"Oh, to oblivion with your sorry," The Dragonborn replied. She'd meant it snap at him, make sure he knew he'd done wrong by her. Instead, her sentence came out as a breathy sigh, "I hope you know I'll never forgive you fo-"

Brynjolf cupped her face and their mouths met. The last dregs of Fiola's rage melted away in an instant, her arms dropping heavily to her sides. She allowed the arm that had snaked to her waist to pull her closer, until she was pressed tight against Brynjolf's body.

For a moment, Fiola's body remained limp as she let the man kiss her – her mind a-whirl with thoughts and emotions. She broke free from the kiss, but didn't pull away – instead remaining pressed tightly within Brynjolf's grasp.

"B-before we do any more of... _this_..." She whispered breathlessly, "I have a condition."

"Good, so do I." Brynjolf replied with a smile. "But you name yours first lass."

"N-no more calling Karliah 'lass'!" Fiola blurted, immediately wishing she hadn't said anything at all. "I reserve all rights to that pet name from here on in, clear?"

"Agreed, but I expect something in return..." Brynjolf replied, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Fiola raised a sceptical eyebrow, but couldn't fight the contagious grin.

"Would it have anything to do with me perhaps inviting you to view my stately home, or more specifically my stately boudoir, this evening?" The Dragonborn teased.

"Ah, you're a mind-reader. Now, was there anything el-" Before Brynjolf could finish his sentence, Fiola tugged him into a rough kiss. It was messy, and mostly teeth but she prayed it conveyed her urgency.

It clearly did. Shortly afterwards, a strong pair of hands cupped her behind and she found herself hoisted up in the air. Fiola automatically wrapped her legs tightly around Brynjolf's waist as she clawed at him needfully.

"We need-mm! Brynjolf, we- ...You-mmn ...Must..." The Dragonborn gasped between kisses. Brynjolf grunted in agreement, somehow having understood her incoherent ramblings. He shifted her up in his arms to get a better grip on her and started walking into the main town.

"Brynjolf!" Fiola spluttered, "Put me down! I'm the _Thane_ of Riften! I can't be seen with my legs wrapped around an infamous scoundrel like you!" She tried her hardest to be serious, but couldn't fight a fit of giggles.

"Don't worry lass, I'll keep to the shadows." He replied, breath hot in her ear, "No one will see us, I promise you."

"Hm, if you can't trust a master-thief to be discreet, who _can_ you trust?" Fiola grinned, squeezing her legs tighter and burrowing her mouth into Brynjolf's neck.

On the short journey from the graveyard to Fiola's front porch, they encountered only a single guard – must have been a slow night for patrolling. He was only a kid; probably his first week on the job, his armour sagged on his scrawny body.

Brynjolf practically strolled right under the guard's nose. He even managed to pilfer the boy's coin purse as he passed, which set Fiola's heart racing with adrenaline and lust.

"Mm, I can't wait to see what else those _nimble_ fingers of yours can do!" The Dragonborn husked, writhing in Brynjolf's arms. The man let out a groan.

"Careful lass or we'll never make it to your door!" He hissed, "Personally, I'm not opposed to just throwing you down on that crate over there and having my way with you..."

"Brynjolf! I'm nothing if not a lady of virtue!" Fiola scolded playfully, "What would the Jarl say?"

"Hm, I'm sure she'd be extremely jealous." He replied with a chuckle, "Now which of these is yours?"

"You mean you've never broken into my house before? I'm touched, Brynjolf." Fiola teased, grinning.

"What can I say..." He grunted, shifting Fiola's weight onto one arm and swiftly using his free hand to twist the doorknob, "I'm a gentleman!"

Brynjolf stumbled through the doorway, knocking a pot and a few books off a small table in the process. He grabbed Fiola tight with both hands once more and forcefully kicked the door shut behind him, never taking his mouth off hers.

"Mm, I love a man that can multi-task!" The Dragonborn sighed breathlessly, grasping a gentle fist of Brynjolf's hair, "I hope my Housecarl isn't here!" She yelped and giggled as he slammed her down on the kitchen table; plates and cutlery clattering noisily around them. It was a good job the Dragonborn wasn't fragile.

"At this point, I couldn't care less, lass." Brynjolf huffed before melding his mouth forcefully with Fiola's; she leant back, arms and legs still wrapped tightly around him. Their kiss grew steadily messier as their passion reached a fever-pitch; tongues delved and wrestled, hands clawed and squeezed...

Fiola shivered as Brynjolf smoothed his palms down her thighs, over her hips and up her body; cupping and squeezing her breasts through the thick, heavy leather of her Thieves' Guild uniform. She wished they were larger... _Karliah's_ pressed and bulged temptingly against her tunic; Fiola could easily be mistaken for a young boy from a distance. Especially with her hood up.

Brynjolf growled - distracting the Dragonborn's train of thought - the noise reverberating from his throat and in the blink of an eye, he'd pulled away. Before Fiola had a chance to open her mouth, he'd yanked at the leather straps holding her tunic closed. She rushed to help him, fumbling with the belts at her waist whilst he undid the fastenings across her chest.

As soon as Brynjolf had them loosened, he pushed the heavy leather open and off Fiola's shoulders, lowering his mouth to trail hot kisses across her collarbone and down her breast bone. The Dragonborn's hands stilled momentarily as he brushed his mouth over each of her exposed breasts – his facial hair tickling her nipples and coaxing them into hard peaks.

Fiola gingerly raised a hand to the back of Brynjolf's head, a gentle encouragement for more. She bit down on her lip to stifle a moan as Brynjolf eagerly began to lick and suck on her breasts, alternating between them from time to time. Before long, the Dragonborn felt hot and feverish, moisture pooling between her legs.

"Mm...Beautiful..." Brynjolf mumbled between mouthfuls and Fiola shuddered.

"I wish they were bigger..." She sighed, running a hand through her hair to tug it free from the leather tie.

"I like them..." He pulled his mouth away and covered them with his large, rough palms; squeezing gently as if to prove a point, "...just like this."

"The bed." Fiola sighed, "Let's go to my bed."

Brynjolf didn't require any more persauding. He hoisted her gently into his arms once more, this time in bridal-fashion, and carried her to the bedroom. Fiola found herself immensely grateful for the open-plan design of the house.

The Dragonborn was laid gently on her back once more and, before she could protest or even sit up, was pinned down by the weight of Brynjolf's body on hers. He kissed her hard at first, but gradually softened until he was almost teasing her. Fiola keened and arched into him, arousal thrumming through her body now – unable to surpress it any longer.

When Brynjolf moved off her, he sat back on his haunches and immediately moved his attention to her trousers. Fiola hurriedly rid herself of her tunic completely, throwing it into the room with little care as to where it landed. He tugged her boots off and then did the same with her trousers, tortuously brushing his fingers down her legs as he did so.

Once they were removed and flung in the same direction as the tunic, Brynjolf's cast his gaze over her with a hum of approval. His eyes stopped to linger in select places before locking their gaze between her thighs.

Fiola's core clenched and her body quivered as he reached out and gently traced his fingers over her sex through her panties. She drew in a shaky breath and pulled her knees up so her feet were flat to the bed; silently wishing she'd worn a more attractive pair than the 'everyday' brown linen ones.

"You're soaked, lass." Brynjolf's voice was low and rough; clearly pleased with this discovery. Fiola just nodded, not trusting herself to speak, and nibbled her lip. He continued to stroke her lightly and the Dragonborn suddenly understood how he managed to pick pockets so well – never had she felt such a gentle touch.

"Aah, Brynjolf..." She hissed and looked up at him, "T-take your uniform off?" Fiola hadn't meant that to come out as a question – seemingly she was all out of fight.

He didn't answer, just chuckled and removed his hand before he began undoing the various belts and catches that stretched across his chest. As Brynjolf shed layers of clothing, Fiola watched hungrily. She trailed her hands up and down her body and smiled when he paused; eyeing her with interest. Spurred on, the Dragonborn squeezed and plucked her breasts; sighing as she ran a shaking hand down her stomach hesitantly.

"Go on," Brynjolf growled, "Let me see." He shrugged out of his tunic and dropped it off the side of the bed.

Fiola mewled and licked her lips at the sight of him – he may have been a sneak-thief, but Brynjolf had seen his fair share of fights; and it showed. Strong wide shoulders, cord after cord of muscle tapering down to sinfully slim hips; and yet he wasn't unmarked. His torso was marred with scars – mostly very minor, but Fiola silently swore to Talos she'd hunt down every last culprit and make them pay.

The heat of his gaze still upon her, the Dragonborn let her hand stray below her navel – brushing gently over her sex, imitating Brynjolf's movements. This time she didn't manage to stifle her moan and tiny tremors began to break out all over her body.

Without a word, he reached out and hooked his fingers under the band of her panties and pulled them slowly. Fiola eagerly lifted her hips to aid him, stilling her movements until she was completely bared.

"Keep going lass..." Brynjolf breathed, his hands undoing the belts at his hips. Fiola obeyed, though a little hesitant, and resumed her position; feet flat on the bed. Her fingers dipped between her legs once more as she petted herself gently; her eyes drifting closed. The man above her groaned and the Dragonborn fought a cheeky smile as she spread her legs a little further apart.

She soon grew impatient and, using her own arousal to lubricate her motions, began rubbing herself more firmly. Small, breathy moans escaped her even as she clamped her teeth down on her lip, arousal and desire quickly replacing her shyness. Fiola heard the heavy thud of material being dropped to the floor and opened her eyes, eager to see Brynjolf completely bared.

He was sat on his haunches again, eyes glued hungrily between her legs. She let her gaze sweep over the rest of his body; relieved to find everything perfectly proportional and where it should be. She licked her lips, eyeing the slick head of his cock like a piece of tempting candy.

Suddenly, Brynjolf reached out and grasped Fiola's wrist; pulling her hand away from her sex.

"Nn, wait I want to-" Before she could stammer the rest of her sentence, he'd roughly pushed her thighs apart and pinned them tight to her chest.

"You've done more than enough, lass." He replied and lowered his mouth, licking her in one, long steady stroke, "I'm the one who's supposed to be apologising, remember?"

All thoughts dissolved immediately. The Dragonborn tried to lift her hips but floundered in vain under the firm hold Brynjolf had on her legs. She cried out in frustration as he continued to lick at her slowly, maddeningly.

"Aahn, o-oh! Ohh B-brynjolf! Please! Please-please-please..." Fiola gasped, begging and squirming. With every caress of his tongue her clit throbbed and her sex clenched. She was painfully ready, but it wasn't enough.

Still he continued to tease her, swirling and sucking but never giving her _quite_ enough. Fiola grabbed fistfuls of bedding, attempting to get some sort of leverage in the situation and failed miserably.

"Please... _Please_... I need to- aah! Ohh, _please _touch me!" She cried, quivering forcefully. To her surprise Brynjolf sat up and shifted his body so he was laying by her side. Neither said a word as he quickly licked his fingers and brought them between Fiola's thighs.

She jolted at the first brush, his fingers much rougher against her sensitive flesh than his tongue had been; but as he slid the moist digits up and down her sex, light as a feather, the Dragonborn felt her arousal sky-rocket. She grasped Brynjolf firmly behind the head and tugged him into a hard kiss, not caring that she could taste herself on his lips.

He groaned into Fiola's mouth and, with the skillful hands of a thief, began to rub her earnestly. As they kissed, she slid a hand between their bodies to cup and stroke Brynjolf's member in return; earning herself a shudder and a pleasured sigh.

"So wet..." He grunted between kisses and pushed a digit inside her, the hot, slick sheathe pulsing and clenching greedily, "Mm, _tight_ too lass..."

"Uhhn, Brynjolf..." Fiola moaned, spreading her legs as far apart as they would go. He pulled his finger free only to replace it with two; she shook and shivered, lifting her hips to meet the thrust of his hand.

"Can you come like this?" Brynjolf husked, licking her jaw. Fiola dug her nails into his back as he pressed his thumb gently against her clit and rubbed.

"Yes! Yes... _yes!_" Her body tensed and she felt her inner walls clamp down around his fingers, "Aah, ah! I'm... I'm going to- Keep going!"

He kissed and sucked gently at her neck, thrusting his fingers inside whilst simultaneously never taking his thumb away. Fiola wasn't sure how he was managing it, but then again she had seen the man pick locks in a matter of seconds – she really shouldn't have been surprised at the startling display of dexterity.

In a matter of moments, the Dragonborn was quivering forcibly - the intensity of the waves of pulsing pleasure rocking her. She might have cried out, she wasn't sure... Fiola huffed, struggling to regain her breath as she felt Brynjolf remove himself from between her legs. She nearly whimpered when she felt him shift his body away and, summoning strength she didn't know she had at that moment, managed to roll over onto her front and hoist herself onto her knees.

Fiola let her body fall forwards until her breasts brushed the cool linen sheets and then reached behind for Brynjolf.

"Please-" She cleared her throat, her voice hoarse. She heard an almost pained groan.

"You want to do it that way lass?" Brynjolf asked with a chuckle and the Dragonborn held her breath as he got up to position himself behind her, "Are you sure you're not a mind-reader?" A rough palm rubbed appraisingly over her ass.

He didn't give her any warning, his patience officially worn down. Fiola winced as he entered her, all in one smooth push, right up to the hilt. She was more than adequately lubricated for him, but it served to remind her just how long it had been since the last time she trusted anyone enough like this... A sobering thought if there ever was one.

Brynjolf released a staggered sigh and squeezed her ass firmly. He gripped her hips as he pulled out slowly, then thrust back in; a little gentler this time.

"Nn... You feel so good lass..." He hummed and spread her apart as he pushed in and out, gradually gaining speed, "So wet and soft..."

Hearing his words, Fiola felt warmth spreading through her veins once more, settling between her legs. She gripped the sheets in front of her and began to gently rock in time with Brynjolf's thrusts.

"Does that feel good, lass?" He huffed, leaning forward so his chest rested against the Dragonborn's back; leaning his weight on one arm and reaching around her body with the other to stroke his fingers back and forth across her clit.

"Mm, yes..." She groaned, pushing back against him.

With each stroke and thrust, their pace quickened. Fiola's body quaked needfully and Brynjolf was grunting and huffing like a beast. The Dragonborn's blood boiled with lust – the animalistic side of her taking the forefront; she wanted to be bitten, marked and claimed.

As Brynjolf pounded against her harder, his fingers rubbed her determinedly – forcing Fiola's pleasure to spike. She cried out wantonly, glad she remembered to hide her face in the sheets to muffle it.

"Uhn, I'm not going to be able to hold out much longer..." Brynjolf gasped and flexed his fist against the bed.

"Mmn, me either... _Almost_..." She sighed, reaching out to lay her hand on top of his and squeezed. He shifted his weight briefly to open his knuckles and Fiola took that as a hint to lace her fingers with his. He squeezed her back and then pressed a kiss into the back of her neck.

Brynjolf resumed pushing into her at an almost urgent pace and lifted his fingers to the Dragonborn's mouth. She licked and sucked on them until they were suitably lubricated – then he took them away and placed them back on her sex.

The new sensation was enough. With a strangled cried, Fiola came; clenching and pulsing around Brynjolf's length. The man slowed, but didn't still – thrusting in and out slowly, as if savouring the feeling before pulling free completely.

Brynjolf moaned as his hot spray hit her ass in jets, a hand gripped and squeezed her hip hard. She was certain it had bruised.

There was a moment of silence before Brynjolf sighed, letting out the breath he'd been holding. The Dragonborn slumped, her knees sliding out from underneath her, and lay in a sweaty heap, gasping.

"As much as I like the view lass, we should probably get you cleaned up before you fall asleep like that." Brynjolf laughed, and Fiola felt smooth material rubbing her behind – cleaning her. She fought the lethargy and sat up on her elbows, glancing over her shoulder.

"They're mine, don't worry." He grinned, waving a pair of undergarments made from the same simple linen as her own.

"I think it'd be a little hypocritical for me to complain about that _now,_ don't you?" The Dragonborn replied with a smirk, gesturing to her bottom. Brynjolf wiped the last of his mess from her and dropped the soiled material on the floor next to his uniform.

His eyes, though heavy and tired, drifted over Fiola's body and she fidgeted, suddenly very aware of her nakedness... and a cold draught; she shivered.

"Cold?" Brynjolf asked. She nodded and began to tug the sheets down. Trying to be nonchalant, Fiola readied her bed for two – plumping both sets of pillows, but when Brynjolf got to his feet - totally at ease with being naked - she held her breath and her stomach dropped out. Surely he wasn't... _Leaving_?

"Are your extra bed furs in here?" He asked, opening a tall wooden wardrobe.

"Yes," Fiola sighed, ashamed to feel so relieved, "Top shelf." She wriggled into the bed, leaving the opposite side pulled down as a silent invitation to join her.

Brynjolf threw a large bear fur across the foot of the bed, admiring the thick, luxurious pelt as he did so.

"Being Thane is more profitable than you let on, lass." He grinned and walked to the opposite side of the bed. When he slid between the sheets and tucked them around his body – Fiola could have shouted with joy. She thought it best she didn't though – Honeyside didn't really need a sky-light...

"Actually, I stole that from Mercer's house." She grinned as Brynjolf's face lit up, "I didn't think the traitor would be needing it again." The man chuckled and a large, cold hand reached out to pull her body close to his.

"You're freezing!" Fiola yelped with a laugh.

"You had better help me warm up then!" He retorted, fitting her body into his – her back pressed to his chest.

They lay in silence for a long while... So long, Fiola wondered if Brynjolf had fallen asleep; until he raised a hand and brushed it through her wild, blonde curls.

"I like your hair down," He murmured, "You should wear it that way more often."

Fiola didn't reply, just scoffed playfully before taking his hand and pulling it under the sheets once more; lacing her fingers with his.

The Dragonborn, now warm, worn out and thoroughly contented felt her eyelids growing heavier and heavier – until she couldn't fight their pull any longer. Just before she tipped over the brink into a deep sleep, Brynjolf whispered:

"You're my only real 'lass' Fiola, always were."

A/N: Hope you enjoyed! ^^ As per usual, a short one-shot ran away with me! In my defence, at least half of it is pure smut :P That's never a bad thing! Send me some review-love and let me know what you think and thanks for reading! :D


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